Bent
by Gaze
Summary: Set when Glory was looking for her key, leaving 'brain damaged' victims in her wake. This time around, season 5 takes a turn for the worst for Spike. Reviews welcomed.
1. Chapter 1

Story: Bent

Author: Gaze

Disclaimer: Of course, I own absolutely nothing of the Buffy franchise. Only the plot is my own.

Author's Note: This fic has been heavily revised such to the point that its storyline veers largely away from the original. The initial story housed many mistakes, in the plot and characterization, as well as the overall format of the fic. A message to those of who did actually read the fic prior to the _major _editing, I suggest that you forget much of what you read, and start again. I realised some flaws in certain areas, so I have revised the whole way the story will turn out. I also finally got my hands on Microsoft Word, so I won't have (hopefully) anymore pesky formatting errors.

I have decided to give this story a second chance, as it severely needs to be re-worked, and I couldn't possibly face another abandoned, and then deleted, fic on my track record. So, despite its sometimes shaky beginnings, this fic will be completed by sheer necessity. Whether it turns out for the better is for you to decide. Enjoy.

* * *

_Italics_ signify thoughts. 

In time for the setting sun, most inhabitants of Sunnydale were in the process of leaving the streets for the comfort, and safety, of their own homes. With the slight few left in the streets, the Scoobies mingled. They were all making their way to the Magic Box separately, where a Scooby meeting just about to start. Tara, followed ever cautiously by Willow, was the last to arrive.

"Willow, you're finally here. We were just about to begin," Giles look towards the two girls, his hand flourishing to the table he was seated behind, which was currently piled high with books. Just about everyone groaned simultaneously, including, surprisingly, Tara.

"Erm…" Giles started, "…Yes, well, I just wanted to share some ideas that Willow and I have been considering over the past few days, to make sure everyone is on the same page. From Buffy's observations, as well as Willow and my estimations, the number of…" He broke off, unsure of how to continue. "The number of minions Glory has produced through the use of her mental powers has steadily increased over the past two weeks. It seems that these people, once found by the god herself, are forced to do her bidding."

"So it's a good thing that we got Tara when we did," Willow stated more for herself than for anyone else.

"Yes, quite. Actually tonight, I think we should devote most of our time researching the process of Glory's…"

"Brain-sucking," Was suggested.

"..Yes, 'brain-sucking'. If we could find out how it works and what causes the participants to follow her will so readily, perhaps we can understand where these people fit into Glory's plan. Whether by pure necessities as minions, or by a higher purpose in the order of things, I think that by determining this we can discover more about Glory and how to defeat her. Maybe we can find a cure, or spell, to combat this…'brain-sucking'," Giles said the last with such distaste that it was as though he had just sipped from a particularly bitter cup of tea.

"Sounds like a plan, but did you really need to steal all of the books from the local library just for one little research party?" Xander whined. He liked research about as much as he enjoyed attempting to get vampire dust and demon guts out of his clothes after a midnight raid. Maybe he could sneak off and be the snack-guy, as per usual.

Crickets, perhaps only imagined, could be heard in the silence of the research. Save for the occasional turn of crisp pages, everything was stiflingly tranquil, so much so that when the jingle of the door could be heard, many whispered thank yous could be heard. Oh sweet distraction.

"Well, I'm glad to see that everyone waited for me before they began the party," Spike shut the door behind him and closed the blinds of both the door and the neighbouring window. If one looked close enough, one could almost see a sigh of relief escape from the vampire.

Grateful for the interruption, Buffy looked away from her text, "Spike, what are you doing?" It seemed everyone wanted to know, as they all had abandoned their books.

"Never mind this, 'm just playing hide-'n'-go-seek with a nasty demon. The million dollar question is what you lot are up to?"

"And here I'd thought to give you the credit of having at least half a brain," Xander scoffed. "Hmm, what does a table piled with Giles' dusty old tombs usually entail? Would you like for me to spell it out for you?"

"As much as you love to hear yourself blather on most of the time, do us all a favour and shut your yap," God, would he give anything just to smash his face in. "So, it's research then. Just how I wanted to spend my Friday night. What is it this time?" Spike sneered as he hopped onto the counter, pulling out his Zippo and smokes.

"Ah ah, this is a no-smoking area. My merchandise will smell and scare off the customers if you do." Anya protested, eyeing the offending cigarette dangling from his lips with contempt.

"Yeah, and some of us don't want to die of second hand smoke," Dawn grumbled.

"All right, all right. No smoking," He placed the cigarette back into the pack. "I get it. Now would someone care to explain what we are researching exactly?"

After being scolded for being late in the first place, Spike was finally told what he should be looking for. He flopped down in his usual place on the stairs with a random book in hand, and with a final look towards the others, he began his research.

His research consisted, really, of him thinking of the inanities of a life such as his. Thoughts ran through his head, like how much blood he had left, did he need to drop by the butchers anytime soon, and whether or not he needed to restock his liquor supply. Probably. His book, which only barely glossed over the symptoms of just your run-of-the-mill zombies, was mind-numbingly boring and he knew it would not help him or the others in their silly quest for understanding the Glory mind-jobs a little bit better. He wanted to go out and fight, perhaps to run into the demon from before.

Using a sure fire way to get him out of research, he began to tap a completely random (and rhythmically challenged) beat on the rail of the stairs. Tested and true, he knew Buffy and him would be out the door in no time. He would just have to wait.

Much to Spike's delight, someone cleared their throat. Rather loudly. Perhaps he should never become a professional drummer.

"Buffy, why don't you take Spike and patrol the cemetery for a little while? I think we could all use a small break," Giles eyed Spike while running his hand through his hair. Spike shot him a look of attempted innocence.

"Sure thing. I think it's just about spooky enough outside by now. C'mon Spike. Let's go."

The two left the shop in record time.

"Does that mean I can leave too? For donuts?"

* * *

Spike calmly breathed in a puff of smoke once the two entered the cemetery. The cool night air was refreshing. Although neither would admit it to the other, both were bored to tears back at the Magic Box. Buffy hid a yawn behind her coat cuff. 

"So why so much time spent on these Glory mind-jobs, luv? That aspect of the research was considerably lacking, between all the chiding 'n all for being late."

"Giles just thinks that they could hold a hidden meaning, or something. He thinks that they're doing more than just her dirty work."

Spike scoffed, "Has he seen any of those blokes? They couldn't hold a hidden meaning if it was glued to their hand. Look at Glenda, perfectly nice 'nd all, but entirely harmless." He took a drag from his fag, "I just think that Willow finally convinced him to help her look for ways to help her bird. We've got bigger problems than that, eh Slayer?" That hell-bitch should be their number one priority, no ifs, ands, or buts. She needed to be taken down.

In the bigger picture, Tara was insignificant. Glory should be their one and only objective. The whole world depended on it. But Buffy made a promise to herself a long time ago that she'd never leave anyone behind.

The rest of the night was normal, if not quiet. The two encountered two fledglings along with the elusive demon that had bothered Spike at the beginning of the night, all being quickly dispatched. Most of the night was just spent weaving through the tombstones in silence. Therefore, Spike was easily able to pick up a set of footsteps following them.

"Well, well, well…"

Both Buffy and Spike whirled around simultaneously to find Glory merely ten feet away. They each assumed a defensive crouch. Spike revealed his demon.

"Oh c'mon you guys! Let's not get into the same habit of one of you thick-headed infantiles running at me without a plan. Can't we just have a civilized chat?" She mocked.

In hopes of catching Glory unawares during her greeting, Buffy didn't take heed of the god's words and leaped towards her, and she was easily swatted away. Glory had eyes for Spike and jumped for the vampire. Spike dodged the attack, and crashed his fists down on her back. Narrowly missing her razor sharp nails, Spike managed to connect a few punches to her jaw, which only server to annoy her more, rather than injure her. Glory dropped the act of playing nice. She was angry. Grabbing the lapels of his coat, she threw him thirty feet into an oak tree. With a sickening snap, Spike fell to the ground, where he stayed to catch his unneeded breath.

Buffy sprung into action, completing a roundhouse kick to Glory's back. Before any real damage could be done, Glory spun around and landed a punch to the back of Buffy's head. Crying out, Buffy landed on the ground with arms grasping the earth in attempts to stop the world from spinning.

"You know, you could speed this up for everyone if you just tell me where my key is. Then we wouldn't have to go through all of this," She said as she hefted Spike up and tossed him to the ground again. Glory lifted her shoe and dug her sharp heel into his chest, "Come on, vampy," she sang, "I know you know."

As the heel burrowed deeper into his chest, Spike cried out, "Bugger you. I don't anything about your key, hell-bitch."

Glory swooped down beside her fallen victim, "My patience is wearing thin, Vampyr. I want what's rightfully mine. Now tell me the truth, you don't want to live the consequences.

Spike kept his mouth firmly shut.

"Ah, I can't wait until I get your pesky ass out of my way." She bent over his face, "Don't say I didn't warn you."

Buffy staggered drunkenly to her feet in time to see Glory bend over Spike. She wanted to run, to help, to do anything but her feet seemed to be frozen. She heard herself screaming as she saw Glory's hands press up against Spike's temples. A blue glow illuminated the area around the god and vampire as Glory's hands dipped deeper into his head. The air was filled with Spike's painful shrieks.

In a matter of seconds, Glory pulled her hands away from Spike and grinned, "Well, I've never done that to a vampire before."

She stumbled backwards a few steps away from Spike. Her eyes blinked a few times as if to swipe away the cobwebs of sleep, "Now that was interesting." Glory pulled at her dress and smoothed back the more unruly of curls. Dazed, she looked at Spike in confusion.

She started, rather questioningly, "As if the first of your pathetic friends wasn't enough. Honestly," she swallowed, "when is it going to get through your thick head that I. want. my. key." With a frustrated scoff, Glory stamped off unsurely in her bloodied stilettos, her hand still planted on her hand.

"Spike? Spike, talk to me."

The temperature in the cemetery seemed to drop ten degrees. Buffy kneeled before his still form and felt the wet grass seep into the knees of her jeans, but it didn't matter. She stared wide-eyed and with mouth agape for a silent few moments before she slowly reached out to touch his shoulder, only to be met with no acknowledgement. Her body let go of a breath she didn't know she was holding, and with a gulp, her mind kicked into gear._ What am I gonna do? Where and how am I gonna move 'em? What am I gonna do?_

What was she going to do? He was her plan B in operation protect Dawn. Spike was her only equal, her strongest ally in the fight against Glory. If he's down for the count then how will she defeat Glory by herself? And if he's stopped, what are the chanced of her to keep going?

A rattling growl interrupted her thoughts.

Buffy looked down towards Spike, and found that he was awake and agitated to say the least. The growl, once soft and almost gentle, became louder and ferocious, reverberating from the deepest cavities of his chest. Hazel and yellow eyes locked on to each other, as if neither knew what the other, or even themselves, would do.

"Spike? Just calm down," Buffy pierced the silence. "Okay? You're all right. We just have to get you back to the Magic Box."

His only response was the same fierce growling.

They couldn't stay in the cemetery that way all night, and Buffy understood that. She moved to place her other arm on Spike's shoulder to help him up. At her movements, Spike finally made his own. He snapped his fangs at, and began to find his way to his feet and away from her arms. Still growling, he clumsily crouched before her. His hands were positioned close to his feet and were supporting some of his weight. Buffy could tell that despite his best efforts to frighten here way, his brave front was lacking. He was in no shape to take on a healthy slayer. Spike, it seemed, knew this as well. He continued to growl, wide, chaotic eyes tracking Buffy's every movement.

"Spike, c'mon. I've got to get you to Giles. I can help you if I get to him. Just… don't be like this." Even while saying the words, Buffy knew he wasn't truly listening to any of them. She moved slowly and gently towards Spike to show him that she meant him no harm, but for every step she would take forward, he would take one back. He certainly did not want to go with her willing, as even being so close to the slayer didn't make his day. Buffy halted her steps and waited.

Without hesitation, and with a flicker of motion, she grabbed a hold of Spike. In her grasp, Spike bucked, roared and tried to bite at her fingers. No words she would say could sooth Spike, so she abandoned them completely as he continued to thrash against her arms. She knew what she had to do.

With movements just as quick and fluid as before, Buffy grasped Spike's head, and rammed him into the tree standing beside them. Upon impact, his body ceased to stir; however Buffy didn't move to collect him just then. Had she been too harsh? No, he was a raging bull in her arm despite his now fragile situation. It had to be done, right, or how else would she get him back? The tree was just a convenient way to get Spike to come with her.

* * *

Once again, the Magic Box was silent. Dawn was just about to doze off behind her book when the door jingled and Buffy walked in. 

"Uh, guys? A little help here? After a couple of blocks our friend gets to be a little heavy."

Dawn, shaken from her nap, was the first to respond, followed by Giles. The two grabbed Spike's arms and carried him into the back room. A look of concern washed over both of their faces as they caught sight of his chest. The rest of the gang followed them, leaving a distressed Tara to say uh oh to herself.

"Buffy, what happened?" Willow asked.

She knelt beside Spike, "We're going to need some bandages. Xander? Can you go get them?"

Dawn padded soundlessly behind her sister, "Buffy? What…What happened?"

"Glory surprised us at the cemetery. We tried to fight her, but she…got Spike, just like Tara." Silence filled the room until Xander returned. He fumbled with the first aid kit, sensing the tension in the room, before passing it to Buffy.

"What? What did I miss?"

"Spike's hurt. Bad." Dawn breathed without meeting anyone's eyes.

"Nothing a little band-aid can't help. Tomorrow he'll be back to being the annoying bleached wonder we've all grown to hate," He drew in another breath to further explain his point of view, and perhaps insult the vampire again. A hand on his arms stopped him.

He looked down to his fiancé, "He's one of Glory's mind slaves now." Xander's face set at the knowledge that he had just put his foot in his mouth once again. He gulped down any retorts he had on his tongue.

"However," Giles began to encourage the group, "we are unsure as to how this could affect Spike, him being a vampire. There is a chance Xander is correct; Vampires have supernatural healing and, as we discovered with Angel, have a resistance to mind reading. This could very well relate to Glory's brain-sucking as well," A deep breath was taken to reassure himself. "Although, we'll need to look into this…"

"Look, right now, we need to help Spike," Buffy interrupted. She began to peel Spike's duster off of his shoulders.

Dawn pursed her lips, touching his cool forehead, "I'll go get some water and a cloth."

Giles crouched down beside Spike, opposite to Buffy. "What did this?" He gestured to the wound.

"It looks like the heel of a stiletto," Anya offered.

Buffy nodded before she ripped Spike's blood sodden shirt off. His chest looked horrid. The heel had gone in deep, and left a gaping hole in his chest, just left of his heart. Dawn returned with the supplies.

"Dawnie, maybe you should come sit with me and Tara," Willow suggested, eyeing Buffy.

Frowning, Dawn protested, "I'm not a child! He's my friend, you know. I want to help him, and besides, he'd want me here."

Buffy shook her head, "Dawn, go with Willow. Please. We don't know what Spike's capable of." Giles turned and looked at Buffy.

"Actually, why don't you guys go home and wait for me there?"

"What!"

"Please, Dawn. Don't argue with me. Just go with Willow."

"Fine, keep sheltering poor Dawnie," Dawn swirled around and stormed out of the room.

Xander looked after the angry teen, "So much for not being a child. What can we do, Buff?"

"Nothing. You guys worked hard tonight. Just go home and rest."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, Giles and I can handle this," Buffy forced a smile to reassure her friends. She just had to fix Spike up, and one of the items on her metaphorical list of things to do could be ticked off with no distractions. With a nod, Xander left with his arm slung around Anya.

"Are you all right?" Concern was evident in Giles' voice and face.

She nodded, "Yeah, yeah. This whole thing is just…strange. I…I don't even know how to explain it. He's just so different from Tara."

"How so?"

Before Buffy could respond, a hand grasped her arm.

"Spike?" Buffy looked down. Spike's eyes were wide open and this time they were clear blue. His eyes were so bright that Buffy almost believed him to be fine. Everything seemed to be all right, normal.

"She's not with us now." The words were barely audible they were whispered so softly. Had it not been for him being on the floor and whispering such absurdities, Spike would have fooled her for being absolutely cured. Gone was the berserk rage of before, or even the dazed look of Tara.

Buffy spared a quick glance at Giles, bewildered at his sudden change in behaviour, "What Spike? Who's 'she'?"

"She's tucked in for the night, Ben made sure of that."

Speechless, she stared at Spike. What was going on?

"No, you don't understand. She's done bothering us for tonight."

"What?" But Spike had already let go of her arm. His eye rolled up into the back of his head, and he was gone. The backroom was once again quiet. The only evidence of his outburst was the reddening mark left on Buffy's arm.

Giles noticed the look of puzzlement grace Buffy's face, "Am I to assume that he didn't act this way before?"

"No. He went bonkers in the cemetery. I don't get it. He wouldn't have been able to form a coherent thought back there, let alone say anything…albeit a crazy something," She looked at Giles. "He wasn't there at all. It was just the demon, as pure as I've seen it."

She stopped before he could start speaking with his brow furrowed, "But let's get him cleaned up before we talk about this. We can sort out the important stuff tomorrow."

He soundlessly nodded and began to help look after Spike's wound. Shortly after, his chest was clean and dressed in clean, white gauze. Almost as good as new. His bloodied shirt and their soiled equipment were neatly put in the garbage. Order was, somewhat, restored.

"I need to get him home," Resistance was expected.

"I know. I'll drive you there." None was met.

Buffy stood wearily, feeling the after affects of a strong blow to the head. She sighed as she and Giles picked up Spike and carried him out of the shop and to the car. They placed him in the backseat, using his duster to prop his head up as a pillow.

"I don't know what to do, Giles," Buffy admitted once the car began to move, "Spike has never gotten hurt badly like this. Like Xander said, he's back to his usual self by the next day. I have a feeling he's out for the count now." She swallowed, "If Glory can do this to Spike, what can she do to Dawn, or you?" She sighed, rubbing her eyes, "This is totally not the time for this to happen."

"It does seem like he always is able to bounce back. But, Buffy, do not worry. You have my promise, and I'm sure as well as everyone else's, that everything will be done to help Spike and defeat Glory in the end. You're not on your own, you know?"

Giles pulled into the Summers' driveway. The two climbed out and carried Spike to the door.

"Do you want me to stay the night?" Giles suggested while unlocking and opening the front door.

"No, I think we can manage here. Thanks, though. I'll call you first thing in the morning."

Giles nodded and walked back to his convertible. Buffy was left to stare after him as he drove down the street. Spike hung limply in her arms as she stood, with his duster slung over her should.

_What am I going to do?_


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: See chapter one

A/N: Okay, chapter 2 is finally up. Sorry about the wait, I've really busy with moving and getting ready for school again. But! I'm sticking with it, don't worry, I wasn't lying back in the first one of these. Now, I do want to warn you about two things. One: At the end of this chapter, the voices (and I'm not saying anything more in fear of ruining it all) might become confusing. Sorry. I've tried my best for it to make sense to someone other than me, but if you're having trouble following it, please tell me. Two: This chapter takes on a completely different point of view. Although not written exactly in the first person, the narration reflects more of Spike's personality – a lot more. It kind of weaves in and out of his thoughts and a severely influenced narrative. Sorry. Try to ignore the huge personality jump from chapter to chapter for now, and then criticize me in a review afterwards. And no, this isn't a clever ploy to get all of you to review. Oh, and sorry for the ridiculous water/dam metaphor. It sounded cool before I typed it out…

_Italics for thoughts_

**_Bold Italics for 'voices'_**

**_

* * *

_**

Darkness.

All he saw was darkness. At first he thought he had just dozed off, woken up and forgot to open his eyes, but he checked. They were open.

_____Okay, don't panic just yet, Spike ol' boy_

And just when did he take mid-night naps? Wasn't he somewhere, doing something? His head was all foggy. He took stock of himself. His body seemed to be in working order, even though there was a dull ache near his heart. No cuts, no broken bones. He wiggled his toes. His head seemed to be still wired all right, despite it felt as if he had nothing but cotton baton between his ears. Then why couldn't he see?

_____Scratch that_

He could see, he realised, he just saw nothing. Total darkness. It was a thick, inky blackness enveloping him like molasses. He stood there blinking, trying to allow his eyes to adjust to such darkness. It was as if he was in a large, ebony room with just enough light for his eyes to want to make the assumption of the room having boundaries. Like when you turn the lights off in your room and your blinds are pulled. You can barely see anything, but your mind still insists that there are walls enclosing your room. He found his way to his feet, pushing off of the ground with his hands, and found that the floor was solid. With his eyesight pretty much out of commission, he honed the rest of his senses. But nothing could be found. Or heard. Or smelled. The space that he was in had absolutely no sound and no residual smells. It like he was the only one there, wherever he was, and no one had been there before him.

___Bollocks. Where the fuck am I?_

"Hello? Is there anyone here?" He decided to chance. Perhaps enraging a possible hell-beastie wasn't the best of ideas, but at least it would serve as some entertainment, or more importantly, provide him with some answers. He didn't, however, receive a response. Not even an echo. "Right. Just me then."

_____Good thing I'm not claustrophobic_

Spike took a deep breath to calm himself down. He, of course, would get to the bottom of this. He'd been in worse, hell, much worse situations than this. Maybe he could even catch up on his beauty sleep. On this most positive outlook, he took several steps in the direction of what he thought looked like a wall. Even when straining his vampire eyesight, the wall's details continued to elude him. He wasn't quite sure if it was even there in the first place, but he would bloody well try to reach it. It seemed to move further and further from his outstretched limbs for every step he took closer. Once again, with his arms stretched in front of him, he bounded towards the wall, but it continued to deceive him. This place was obviously huge, as when Spike turned around, he found that the 'wall' behind him looked about the same distance away from him as it did before he began his search. Something wasn't right. He snorted and scoured the darkness for answers to his unspoken questions****

_____Maybe there are no walls, and I'm just stuck here in an endless abyss. Just bloody great. One minute I'm patrolling with the Slayer, minding my own bleedin' business, and then the next thing I know I'm imprisoned here. Wait…Buffy. I was with her then, so where is she now?_

His thoughts of his past actions in the cemetery consumed him for the time being. He could remember being in one of the cemeteries, with Buffy, but everything was hazy beyond that, like the blurry recollections of dreams long past and forgotten. A sudden sound jarred against his sensitive ears in the silence. It was faint, but it was enough of a noise against the quiet around him to interrupt his musings. When he strained his ears he could scarcely hear the rustling of clothes and the whirl of a slight breeze. He didn't feel wind, and he certainly was not moving. He concentrated again, and now he could pick up several scents.

It smelled of grass.

Of his cemetery.

Of her.

"Buffy?"

"Spike? Spike, talk to me." Spike span on his heels and completed a full 360 degree turn, but saw nothing save for the inky blackness around him.

"Luv, where are you? I can't seem to see you,"_____or anything else, for that matter._****Silence wasn't the response he was hoping for, but Spike's wished were rarely granted these days.

While waiting for another word from the Slayer, a slightly glowing orb appeared in front of him.

"Slayer?" He eyed the orb with suspicion and caution.

The orb crackled, seemingly with a life-force of its own. First beginning as but a small pin-prick against the blackness, it began to grow. As it seeped outwards, it acquired the same consistency as fog. Barely breaking the darkness around him, the fog grew to encompass his whole field of view. Spike turned around and found that behind him was still dark, empty of any mysterious fog, or anything else. When he turned around, the fog had begun to brighten. It snapped alive and gained an electrifyingly blue sheen. With another glance behind his shoulder, Spike found the light did nothing to illuminate even the immediate area behind him, effectively keeping him in the dark, quite literally, about his surrounding. He took a step backwards and once again focused on the fog, completely mystified. Spike could do nothing but stare at the fog. Much to his surprise, the blue began to diminish and was replaced with a swirl of colours. The colours soon began to settle and take form.

A human shape evolved.

It was a girl.

With blonde hair.

It was Buffy, and it seemed as though she was leaning over and looking directly into Spike's eyes, piercing through the fog.

"Buffy! Where are y…" Spike stopped and cocked his head to the side.

A low growl could be heard. He straightened out and stood still, muscles tense and ready to pounce. For the second time, he swivelled on the spot, trying to penetrate the blackness to find the culprit; however, there was nothing. Even the impression of another being nearby couldn't be sensed. There was just the blackness that Spike had slowly become accustomed to. When Spike focused again on the growl, it was as though it wasn't in the same place as he. It was detached, and seemed to come from elsewhere, just beyond his reach. It was coming from the fog, Spike decided.

Spike checked the fog again. Buffy was still there. She was moving now. Her arm passed in front of the view that the fog provided, and then further beyond it. The growl accompanied the movement with added hostility.

"Spike? Just calm down. Okay? You're all right. I just need to get you to the Magic Box."

"Calm down? What are you on about, luv? I am as calm as I'm ever going to be. What's going on?" Spike shook his head. "What happened and what am I doing here? Slayer? Can you even...? Great, she can't even bleedin' hear me. Buffy!" Spike tried shouting, but it didn't seem to get though to her, and it didn't affect the snarling either. It had grown to a constant roar. Spike deduced that perhaps Buffy couldn't see him either. Her eyes seemed to be looking through him, rather than at him.

The picture in the fog changed. It had moved position from underneath Buffy to farther away. Whatever it was that allowed Spike to see the images, it was seeking distance from Buffy. The point of view seemed to be from a crouch. For a while neither Buffy nor the 'picture' moved. It was as if the two were at a stalemate. With a frown, Spike watched the fog as Buffy jumped at the picture. She seemed to have grabbed the thing and was holding it in a rather uncomfortable bear hug. Hissing and snapping could be heard while the picture moved down to reveal her arms encircling the body of her catch.

"Hey, is that my duster?"

And then the world he knew turned black.

* * *

"Ugh."****

_____Remind me not do whatever I did last night ever again_

Spike once again found himself lying on the ground in his dark prison. This time, however, he had a splitting headache.

"This night keeps getting better and better," He ground out as he scrunched up his eyes and cradled his head

Sliding one eyelid open slowly, Spike surveyed the scene from the floor up and found the fog to be missing. He moved himself up onto his feet, cautiously, and looked around himself for a second time. The fog completely disappeared, leaving Spike alone and bewildered in the dark again. Eyes gliding over the darkness one final time, Spike plopped back down on the ground.

_How'd you get into this mess, mate?_****Spike scoured his mind for a plan of attack, searching for anything to keep his mind off of the fact that for the moment he had no escape plan and no idea where to even begin. He definitely did not hold all of the cards.

**__****____****Well, it's not like you had them all in the beginning**

"Come again?" Spike sat obediently, waiting for a response before he realised that up until a few moment ago, he had been alone. Sitting up straight, he searched the darkness, and discovered that he was indeed still alone.

**__****__****_You shouldn't listen to him. He just likes to shit on everyone's parade_** another voice broke the silence, different from the first one, and it was soon echoed by several others who appeared to agree.

**__****____****I do not!**

Eyes wide in alarm, Spike stood up, "Who are you? Come out where I can see you."

**__****____****You can't possibly see us, you twit**

**__****____****I'm Teshia from accounting…**

**__****_…___****I was an orphan when she found me…**

**__****_…___****my mother used to call me La-bee…**

**__****____****Why don't you start by telling us who you are, Vampyr? **

The voices all began to speak at once. Once just a trickle of water leaking from a small crack in the dam, the flow of voices had become the thunder of thousands of gallons of water rushing past and destroying the wall. It was all too much, too quickly. Spike sunk to his knees, grasping his ears with his hands in attempts to shut them out. But they kept coming. Several voices would sweep by one ear and whisper incomprehensible hate-filled words to him, while several more would attack the other ear.

**__****_…___****sorry excuse for a vampire…**

**__****____****Why didn't you save me while you could? You had…**

**__****_…___****he didn't trust me just like I didn't trust him…**

**__****____****Bastard! I want you out of my life. Don't touch me…**

The roar of voices consumed him, becoming an oppressive force, pushing him closer to the floor. Spike, with his eyes desperately clenched shut and his mouth agape mouthing ghosts of words, could do nothing to rid himself from his hell. The voices continued to pound relentlessly in and around him. They got through his hands and into his head. They get under his skin, not allowing him a moment's peace. He was drowning in a crushing sea of voices, and he could do nothing to help himself.

Thousands upon thousands of whispers fluttered past him, leaving breathy gusts of air to tickling the hairs on the back of his neck. There were so many of them, and all of them shouting at him, vying for his sole attention. Spike envisioned being encircled by a mob; much like the one back in Prague, chanting obscurities at him, so close to him that he could feel their hot breath. He couldn't think. He felt ill.

Too stifling. Too claustrophobic.

**__****__****_D-don't worry, Spike._** One voice seemed to rise above the rest seeping with an unseen power,**__********_Glory's not here to bother you or Buffy right now. _**

**__****____****That's right, her precious Ben made sure of that – scooped 'er up and hid 'er away**

**__****_…___****tucked her in for the night…**

**__****__****_Spike, _**continued the commanding voice from before,******__****_Spike, I'm sorry. I…we have to go. Remember, she can't hurt any of us for the moment._**

And all in that moment, the voices snapped shut. The silence burned and rung in Spike's ears. The sudden void having followed the intense waterfall of voices left Spike severely disoriented and nauseated. His head was spinning and his stomach was doing flips and somersaults. What had just happened?

With his eyes still firmly shut, Spike was unaware that the fog was making a second appearance. It grew again to encompass most of the abyss, showing the forms of both Buffy and Giles. Meanwhile, his tired brain was running in circles trying to decode the words spoken to him.

"She's not with us now," He began to repeat; vainly trying to sort out what was said.

"What, Spike? Who's She?" Buffy's voice pierced the silence, however it fell on deaf ears. Spike was completely and wholly concerned with what had just happened and was oblivious to everything else.

"She's tucked in for the night…Ben made sure of that." Spike mumbled to himself, as if hearing it for the second time, the words would reveal their hidden meaning. "No, you don't understand," Spike berated himself in passing. He was so concentrated fully on the message he was left with that he idea that he was actually communicating with Buffy had not entered his thoughts. "She won't be bothering us tonight."

Brow furrowed, Spike leaned forward. Having spent all of his energy, he keeled over and fell into a welcoming darkness.


End file.
